Chasing the Dark
by Sth10
Summary: It takes a day of intense highs and lows for three very different officers to realise the support they can give each other is more valuable than they could have imagined.
1. Chapter 1

_Officer John Cooper has been friends with Chickie Brown a long time, but tonight he will realise that his rookie partner Ben Sherman is becoming someone they can both rely on._

**PART ONE**

John Cooper hated hail storms. More accurately, he hated hail storms when he was charged with keeping law and order amongst the lowlifes of Los Angeles. Hail sent 'em crazy. He didn't know why but it was a proven fact.

It also meant he was cold enough to wear his duty jacket, which he also hated because they were never sized right to fit comfortably over Kevlar and the addition of his broad shoulders made it tight and restrictive. Add the incessant drumming of frozen rain on the roof of the cruiser and Cooper was not in a happy mood.

In fact, he was in the sort of mood that made him long for some dumbass to come by and piss him off. Just so he could take pleasure in smashing them face-first to the sidewalk.

"I'm starvin'," Sherman announced from the passenger seat.

"We had bagels an hour ago."

"They were really small."

Cooper had been riding with Ben Sherman for long enough to be used to his voracious appetite and even in a bad mood, he was amused by the description of the Bagel Factory's giant cream-cheese filled offerings as 'small'. Plus, he was pretty hungry as well.

"How about empanadas?" he suggested. "There's a great little stand coupla blocks East."

Sherman was already unbuckling his seatbelt in anticipation.

"I'm not gettin' outta the car in this shit," Cooper warned him, looking up at the black clouds above them as he steered with one hand. The other hand was hunting in his pockets for money.

Sherman obligingly dived out when they stopped kerbside, using his jacket to cover his precious hair. Cooper considered yelling something derisive about his masculinity after him but that would have involved rolling down the window and getting even colder.

He was somewhat mollified when Sherman returned with a Styrofoam container filled with a mix of empanada varieties. At least the boot could be trusted with food orders.

"Man, these are good." Sherman had already stuffed one whole into his mouth. Cooper wasted no time in doing the same.

"I figure I'd enjoy a tour of South America," he agreed.

"Just to eat?"

"And drink beer."

Sherman nodded with agreement. "Sounds like a blast to me."

"You wouldn't like it; they don't have clean-cut Beverly Hills types south of the border."

"They don't have many in South Central either."

Cooper was amused. "Touché." He munched another empanada. "Okay, your turn for a conversation starter."

Sherman shrugged. "I got nothin' to talk about."

"Raiders game? Top 5 pizza toppings? C'mon, man, I'm bored outta my mind here."

"You talk about something then. I'll listen."

"It's not a conversation when one person stays silent." Cooper started the engine again and pulled away.

"I don't have anything to say!" Sherman protested. "I'm hungover to hell and I'm hungry."

"You've been hungover every day this week. I know you hold your alcohol like a girl but…"

"Yeah, like you don't drink."

"I don't get hungover."

"That's because you're twice the size of me. You're like a bear or something."

Cooper couldn't help but grin. "A bear?"

An embarrassed smile jerked Sherman's lips before he shrugged and looked away. "Your back alright?" he asked after a moment.

Cooper felt his shoulders tighten instinctively. "Yeah, it's okay," he said, forcing the casual note into his voice as if he hadn't even considered it recently.

"That's good." Sherman didn't look at him but Cooper was learning to judge his body language well and he could see the younger man was wary of such an easy answer.

He decided not to offer any further explanation. Sherman was coming to understand the score; he had seen Cooper in pain and he had not made a big deal of it. He had proved himself trustworthy in his reaction, even though he probably didn't realise it.

John Cooper was not an easy man to figure out and he had not expected that he would allow the rookie to attempt to do so. But Sherman's stoic acceptance had meant something to Cooper.

He believed strongly in loyalty. And he was realising that Ben Sherman did as well.

X X X

An hour later, with only a couple of traffic stops to keep them entertained, they were cruising Santa Monica Boulevard on the lookout for hookers they could harass. Sherman was gazing silently out the window, reflecting on the direction his life was taking. He knew Cooper was frustrated by the lack of conversation; his partner hated riding in silence when action was thin on the ground.

"What you being so quiet for?" As expected, Cooper didn't take long to crack. "It's like riding with a stuffed moose head or somethin'."

Sherman couldn't help but smile at that statement. "Stuffed moose head?"

"Knew that'd get you," Cooper grinned. "What's eatin' ya?"

Ben blew out a frustrated breath. Knew he wouldn't be allowed to escape without an explanation. "Daisy ended it," he said. "She's gone back to a guy in New York."

"Shit. I thought you said it was going well."

"Thought it was."

"She just told you outta nowhere?"

"Yeah, just like that."

"Pretty harsh."

"Tell me about it." Ben shook his head. "Wasn't what I was expecting."

"That's rough on you, Boot."

"Thanks, man." Sherman recognised that as Cooper's way of saying he was sorry. "Guess she did kinda have that Taylor Swift vibe about her, now I think about it."

"That ain't the kinda vibe you wanna have around you," Cooper declared.

"You know who Taylor Swift is?"

"Boot, I ain't fuckin' prehistoric." Cooper shot him a glare that he didn't really mean. "Wanna get some coffee?"

"Figure I could use the caffeine."

"So, you get dumped, you get drunk?"

"Pretty much," Ben said disparagingly. "Couldn't think of anythin' else to do."

Cooper nodded his agreement, swung the car into the kerb by one of their favoured coffee stands. Waved away the bill Sherman offered him and got out to order. Returned with two supersize coffees and gave Ben his usual order of cream and sugars, miraculously without his typical comment of disgust.

"You shouldn't dwell on it, Boot," he said casually. "That's how she plays, she ain't worth it."

"I know, man," Sherman's voice was forceful. "It's just, y'know, I thought we had somethin' good going."

Cooper nodded, slugged coffee for a contemplative minute. "Lotta the time, it doesn't work out for a reason. Saves you more bullshit in the long run. Even if the chick is hot."

"To be honest, she wasn't as hot as I usually go for." Ben flashed his best player grin but failed to be convincing. "But she was cool. I didn't think she was as shallow as all the others."

"Guess you can never tell for sure. Laurie thought I was an asshole when we first met."

"What were you doing at the time?"

"Arresting her boyfriend."

They both cracked up laughing.

"We can go for beers tonight," Cooper said when they'd calmed down. "You can rant your little heart out. Better than getting drunk alone."

Sherman thought for a second. Nodded, decided he'd been drinking alone for too many evenings. "Alright, cool."

They fell into comfortable silence. It was Cooper's day in charge of the music and he hooked up his iPod. Technically they were not supposed to let anything interfere with radio calls but Cooper had always liked to interpret the rules in his own way.

He enjoyed music and had a pretty eclectic taste, appreciated anything from Green Day to Joni Mitchell, but he kept his work playlists limited to his favourite soft rock tracks to maintain his hard-ass reputation. He knew Sherman was expecting the Chillis or REM or Kings of Leon as usual.

He grinned widely as he found the desired track and cranked up the volume. Taylor Swift's profound vocals filled the cruiser.

"The hell, man?" Sherman looked momentarily traumatised, then couldn't keep a hold of himself and burst into laughter.

Satisfied with his humour, Cooper set a more typical playlist going and they settled down again. Sipped coffee and gazed out at the detritus of life wandering past.

"Asshole rodeo," Ben drawled with a sideways glance at his partner.

"Who'd ever have thought you actually listened."

"I listened to every word you said on my first day."

"And on the second you did the opposite."

Sherman shrugged. "I have a short attention span."

He grabbed eagerly for the squawking radio as it yelled out what sounded suspiciously like a garbage call. Cooper didn't smack his hand away in time.

"6-A-43, show us responding."

"Goddammit, Boot, I told you no fuckin' garbage calls this week," Cooper growled.

"We've been riding around bored forever. Might as well do something."

"If we get a whole day of this shit, I'm gonna kick your ass right back to Beverly Hills."

"Yes sir," Sherman intoned with a grin.

Cooper swung out into the road, burning rubber as he stamped on the gas. "You're contact," he declared. "I don't feel like talking to shitheads."

"Got it."

They could hear the domestic raging even as they pulled up outside the dilapidated clapboard house. The whole street was rough but this place took the prize, from the abandoned trash littering the front yard to paint peeling from the boards and the cardboard patching broken windows.

"Welcome to the real LA," Cooper drawled.

"Quite a palace," Sherman agreed as they climbed out to the welcoming chorus of screamed insults.

Sherman took the lead, banging the screen door to announce their presence but the argument was too loud to hear anything beyond a shotgun. The tiny living room stank of old food, unwashed bodies and that unmistakeable sweet smell of smoked meth. The floor was covered with tattered clothes, pizza boxes and, more worryingly, a few toys.

The arguing couple couldn't have been more than early twenties but they had that look; grey skin, open sores around their mouths, wasted bodies. They appeared twenty years older than they should have.

"Aw, hell, I know these two idiots," Cooper groaned from behind Sherman. "Both meth-heads; always think the other one's smoked their stash."

"Hey!" Sherman raised his voice to be heard over the yelling. "You wanna shut up a minute?"

The man briefly quietened for a moment but his girlfriend took this as her opportunity and immediately upped her own volume.

Cooper's patience was short as ever. "Shut the fuck up!" he bellowed.

That was enough to silence both of them. They looked somewhat surprised to find two cops standing in their living room.

"What's the problem?" Ben took the chance to ask before they started up again.

"This goddam asshole been screwin' ma sister!" the woman screeched.

"Man, she came on to me!" the guy protested.

"The hell she did! Why the hell would she want yo' scrawny ass?"

"Why don't you go ask her? She was grindin' all over me at that party!"

Sherman exchanged weary glances with Cooper, who looked like he wanted to get in a little practise with his nightstick.

"Your neighbours are gettin' tired of the noise you guys are making," Sherman said with feigned patience. "You want me to go ahead and arrest you both for disturbing the peace, I can do."

"Man, you can't arrest us for fightin' in our own house!" The guy crossed his arms across his thin chest and nodded his conviction that he was correct.

"Watch me."

"Fuck you, man, me and ma girl just talkin'!"

Ben looked to Cooper for verbal support but Cooper had folded his arms and squared his jaw, his usual pose when he was refusing to get involved in some stupidity. Sherman was dealing with this whether he liked it or not.

"Then talk quietly. Or I'm gonna put you both in cuffs and haul your asses downtown. You understand what I'm saying?"

Man and woman exchanged glances. Silent communication was clearly not their strong point judging by the frowns and hisses that followed. Ben knew the score by now; misdemeanour not committed in their presence meant they shut everyone up and got the hell out of there. That was exactly what he intended to do.

"You understand?" he repeated, quite convinced they had no idea who he was or why he was there.

"Yeah, we got it," the guy muttered. His girlfriend was too busy gnawing at her thumb to answer, her thoughts clearly already with her next fix.

"Any more noise, any more fights, I get called back here again, you're both going in."

Two obedient nods. Two junkies more interested in locating more little white crystals than anything Ben Sherman could say to them. Sherman nodded to Cooper and they both turned away.

Sherman's boot found one of the toys. He turned back momentarily. "Where's the kid?" he asked.

The man shrugged. "She at the neighbour's."

"Do her a favour and leave her there," Cooper growled.

They exited the house, slamming the door behind them. Breathed in fresh air to try and get the stench from their lungs.

"Hey." A grandmother had walked over from across the street. "You gonna take that lil girl?"

"The kid's not at the house, ma'am," Sherman said.

"You 'sho about that? 'Cos you know they keep her out in the backyard."

Cooper frowned. "Whaddya mean, they keep her in the backyard?"

"Kid gets to cryin' or they want her outta the way so they can get high, they stick her out in the backyard for hours."

"You serious?"

"Hell yeah, I'm serious. I see it all the time. I even call Child Services but they just say same as always; they get to it when they got time."

Sherman and Cooper were already turning back into the house. The woman had slumped on the filthy couch; her boyfriend was nowhere to be seen.

"The fuck you want now?" she demanded.

"You told me your kid's at the neighbour's," Sherman said. "Now your neighbour's telling me she's in the backyard."

"So what? She playin' out there."

"How old's she?"

The woman got unsteadily to her feet, glaring at Ben. "Five. Why you care?"

"Can we see her, please?"

"What the hell for?"

"To check she's okay." Sherman gave her the hard look he'd been practising. He got plenty of pointers from watching Cooper. "Now."

Standing became too much of an effort. She slumped back down onto the couch, waved a wasted arm. "Knock yourselves out."

Cooper led the way into the kitchen. Paused to stare in disgust at the roaches crawling over every surface. Sherman moved to the back door, shouldered it open.

The kid was at the far end of the small yard, in front of a tall stack of breezeblocks. A little thing with a wild bush of hair that hadn't been cared for in a long while. She was perfectly quiet, very still. Sherman frowned; something wasn't quite right but for a moment he couldn't put his finger on it.

Then he realised. Around the girl's neck was a collar. A dog collar in fact. Attached to the collar was a long metal chain, which in turn snaked across the yard to be secured to the handrail next to the door. In most backyards, a pitbull was attached to a collar and chain like that.

In this backyard, it was a five-year-old girl.

"Coop," Sherman called as he broke into a jog towards the child.

He was in mid-stride when he realised what else wasn't right. In the overgrown grass, he hadn't been able to see it but now the horrible realisation hit him. The girl's feet weren't touching the ground. The chain was hanging over the breezeblock stack. And the child was hanging from the chain.

"John!" Sherman roared as he sprinted the rest of the distance across the yard. "Get an RA here!"

Cooper charged out the back door, relaying the demand into his handset. "What's happened?" he yelled, pounding across the grass.

Sherman seized the child's legs, taking her bodyweight. She was unresponsive but her tongue was not yet protruding swollen from her mouth, always a sure sign of a hanging death.

"She musta been playing up top. Chain's got caught on the blocks when she fell or jumped."

Cooper's fingers were grappling with the collar, fighting to release it. He finally managed to get it undone, Sherman catching the small figure as she dropped. He laid her down, put his ear against her mouth.

"Not breathing, non-responsive." He tilted her chin back, checked her airway was clear now the collar was gone.

Cooper was staring in disbelief at what he held in his hands, then shook himself and reported the update for the RA. Sherman started CPR, focused only on the tiny body before him.

"C'mon, sweetheart, breathe," he urged, feeling how fragile her chest was beneath his hands.

He was vaguely aware that Cooper wasn't helping him but he only realised his partner had spotted the father when Cooper let out an enraged roar and charged across the yard. The father attempted to get back inside the door. Was sent sprawling by the force of Cooper's solid body as he launched an almighty tackle, smashing him to the ground.

"Breathe, baby, please," Sherman realised he was whispering over and over again as he battled to bring life back into the child. He sent air into her mouth again, shaking in his desperation to save her.

His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it. He didn't see Cooper wrestling with the father, snapping the cuffs on him and dragging him up. He could focus on nothing but saving this little girl.

Then he heard it. That little gasp. A tiny cough. Then her eyes were fluttering open and she was dragging air into her lungs. As cries erupted from her, Sherman grabbed hold of her, hugging her to his chest. Her little hands seized his shirt, clung to him.

"You put a dog collar on your little girl?" Cooper was standing over them now, gripping the father by the back of his neck. His expression was burning with fury as he forced the man to his knees. "You left her out here to hang herself?"

Cooper's fist made hard contact with the back of the man's head. The smaller guy pitched forwards, landing face-first in the dirt. Sherman made no move to prevent it. He wanted to do it himself, beat the shit out of the excuse for humanity lying at their feet.

But he couldn't bring himself to let go of the little girl he had just brought back to life.


	2. Chapter 2

PART 2

"What sort of fuckin' animal are you?" Cooper growled, towering over the heap on the ground.

The guy risked a glance up. "Man, she behave like a dog, she get treated like a dog."

Sherman heard a furious snarl erupt from his own throat before he lowered his head and charged at the father. Didn't get to him. Instead ran straight into the brick wall that was John Cooper's chest. Swung wildly even though he couldn't reach to connect with the piece of shit. Continued throwing punches as he struggled to get free, desperate to pound his fists into the wasted face.

But Cooper was bigger and he was stronger and at that moment it felt like he was everything that Ben Sherman wasn't because he had regained control and he wasn't risking his badge for some worthless excuse of humanity.

"Let it go, Ben." Eventually he managed to fight the rage pounding in his brain sufficiently to hear Cooper's voice in his ear. "Calm down. You gotta leave it, okay?"

There was no anger in Cooper's tone, no yelling or accusing him of being a stupid young hothead, and the reassurance of his moderated tone was enough to still Sherman. His body went limp in Cooper's arms as his eyes landed on the little girl, tears streaming down her cheeks as she looked at the man who called himself her father.

Cooper let go but looked ready to grab him again should Sherman not be able to keep a hold on his temper. Ben could feel himself trembling with anger; he wanted to punch something until his knuckles caved in, but he couldn't look away from the child he had saved and he knew he couldn't allow her to see him lose control again.

He stepped away from Cooper, walked to the girl's side as the medics strapped her onto the gurney. Her little hand grabbed hold of his, squeezing hard. He expected to see fear in her eyes but, despite the tears, there was none. In fact, Ben could have sworn there was relief. She had realised she was safe now, that someone would help her, that she would never be forced to wear a dog collar again. Five years old and she seemed more worldly than the cop who had revived her.

Sherman felt the tears welling in his own eyes and he looked away, willing control upon himself. Wished he could be more like John Cooper, who just dealt with anything he came across. Not like his rookie who lost it so easily.

"You're gonna be safe now, sweetheart," he whispered to the child. Her big eyes met his and she didn't speak, probably couldn't speak, but he knew she had understood.

The child was loaded into the back of the ambulance. The parents were shoved unceremoniously into two cruisers that had arrived to help out. Ben Sherman just watched. Felt Cooper's reassuring presence beside him. Didn't look at him.

"Great save, Boot," Cooper said softly, his big hand landing on Sherman's shoulder.

And Ben Sherman realised the enormity of what he had just done. He smiled.

X X X

Finally cleared to leave the scene, Sherman took a moment to duck back into the yard. Removed the dog collar from the chain. Carried it back to the car with him. Cooper was already in the driver's seat, ready to go. He glanced at the collar, then at Sherman, but didn't say anything. His eyes said he understood why Ben had taken it.

"Wanna head up into the Hills?" he asked.

Sherman nodded. They had a spot up there where they liked to park up during quiet radio time and look out over the unspoilt views. Sherman liked the peacefulness of the place; it always managed to calm him and he realised now that Cooper knew that.

He was silent during the drive. Cooper unusually didn't have anything to say either; he rarely took anything personally on the job, refused to let any shit get to him, but Sherman could tell he was thinking on this. No one wanted to see a child so close to death.

Finally they were parked up, both sitting on the hood as they gazed out over the Hollywood Hills. From up here, the city seemed like a different world, far away enough not to affect them.

Ben was still turning the dog collar over in his hands. He couldn't get out of his mind the image of the deep lesion it had caused on the little girl's neck as it had cut into her delicate skin. He didn't know what to feel; a large part of him was elated at having saved her life but the anger was still smouldering deep inside and he couldn't completely ignore it despite his heart telling him he should be pleased with his actions.

He didn't know how long he sat there before he got up, walked to the edge of the steep slope falling away beneath him. Swung his arm and hurled the offending object as far away as it would go.

"Shoulda burnt the fuckin' thing," Cooper said as Sherman walked back to retake his seat on the hood.

"Haven't got a light."

"Where's a damn spontaneous combustion miracle when you need one?"

They fell quiet again for a few more minutes. Cooper leant back against the windshield, tilted his face up to the grey sky.

"At least it's stopped fuckin' raining," he said.

Sherman was still studying the ground in front of the car. "I don't know what to feel."

"I'll tell you what to feel," Cooper said brusquely. "Be glad you saved a kid's life and be glad that you've made sure she never has to go back to that house again."

"Didn't think that's what I'd be doing when I left home this morning."

"That's the beauty of all this, Boot. You never know what to expect." Cooper smiled. "That's what makes it so damn good."

Sherman couldn't help but smile in return. "And to think I coulda gone to college and been a hotshot lawyer."

"So why become a cop instead?"

"'Cos of what happened to my mom, really." Sherman tugged on his lower lip reflectively. "I knew I'd never be happy sitting in an office or chasing the CEO dream or playing the stock market. I wanted to do something worthwhile, y'know. Somethin' I could be proud of."

"You're like a walking advertisement for the LAPD."

Sherman accepted the wisecrack placidly. "You always know you wanted to be a cop?"

Cooper shrugged, swung off the hood and stood up. "Soon as I saw my old man go down for life, I wanted to make sure shitheads like him were taken off the streets. Figured if I could do it myself, so much the better."

"You work before you turned twenty-one?"

A smile played across Cooper's lips. "We didn't all have Daddy's platinum card to play with 'til we joined the Academy. I worked three years for this little gardening business. All Mexican guys except me. We fixed up Bel Air's botanical paradises for minimum wage and Sundays off. I kinda liked it."

Sherman was amused. "Livin' the dream, huh?"

"You know it, ese."

Cooper's cell chirped and he flicked it open without checking the display. "Cooper."

Ben slid down from the hood, wandered round to open his door.

"What's up, darlin'?" Cooper asked, the endearment telling Sherman he was speaking to Chickie. No one else ever got treated nicely on the phone.

The conversation was short but Cooper didn't seem pissed off by whatever Chickie was asking him to do.

"Alright, hang tight, we'll be there in twenty," Cooper concluded. He snapped the phone shut and glanced across the car roof at his partner. "We gotta swing by the station."

"What's goin' on?"

"Dewey's declared himself sick so he's dumped Chickie on her own. She's asked Hill if she can head out with us."

"That's like the third time this month Dewey's done that." Sherman slid into the car.

Cooper nodded shortly. "Not fair on Chick bein' dumped in the kit room every time."

Ben turned his head to gaze out the window so Cooper couldn't see him smile. Chickie Brown was one of the few people who could wrap John Cooper around her little finger. Cooper loved his friend and didn't bother to hide it.

"What you grinning at, Richie Rich?" Cooper, as usual, missed nothing.

"Nothing, sir," Sherman said with a mock salute, still smiling.

"One tiny little goddam life saved and you think you're a frickin' golden boy. You wanna nice little parade and a shiny medal when we get back to the station? Or shall we just grab a bottle of Bollinger and some caviar and go celebrate on top of the Hollywood sign?"

Ben couldn't help laughing at Cooper's wiseass grin. "You jealous, Coop?"

"In your dreams. I fuckin' hate caviar." Cooper hit the horn and yelled a threatening curse at a jaywalking wino. "You cool with Chickie riding with us?"

Sherman knew his face registered his surprise at the usually autonomous Cooper asking for his opinion.

"Sure, anytime," he said quickly before Cooper could change his mind and tell him to shut up. He liked Chickie; she looked out for him like her little brother. She never made him feel like he was a stupid kid and when Cooper did, she told him to lay off.

"I've known her a long time." Cooper hung his left wrist over the wheel, adopted his casual pose. The one that meant he had something to say. "She's always been a good friend. Good cop too. But she's goin' through a lotta shit right now. Doesn't always make the right choices out on the street."

Sherman frowned, trying to keep up with where this was going. Cooper wasn't usually so opaque.

"What I'm saying, Boot," Cooper's voice had become gentle, "is I don't want you copying what Chickie does out there. You're gettin' your own instincts now and I'd rather see you use 'em than follow her lead. She tells you to do somethin' and you think it's not right, you wait for me to tell you before you move. You get what I'm saying?"

Sherman was still confused but he nodded his agreement. "Yeah, I hear you."

"I don't want you gettin' hurt or fuckin' up 'cos you think you should follow Chickie."

"You think she's dangerous?" he asked in surprise.

"No, not dangerous. I'm just not sure about her instincts right now." Cooper looked across at him. "Bottom line, Boot, I trust you and you trust me. No matter who rides with us, that's what comes first. We take care of each other."

Ben felt his adrenaline begin to flow again at the confirmation a cop like John Cooper trusted a rookie to keep him alive. "Yes sir," was the only thing he could think of to say that wouldn't make him sound an absolute pussy.

A smile played on Cooper's lips. "I just told you all that and you're calling me sir?"

"You want me to call you Dad instead?"

Cooper lost the battle to contain his grin. "Am I that much of an asshole that you'd compare me to your dad?"

Sherman had to grin at that one. "Not quite."

"Then stick with Coop like everyone else."

Sherman looked out the window so Cooper didn't see that meant something to him.

As they pulled to a halt in front of the station steps, Dewey was wandering out, strolling as if he was on his way to a barbeque. Ben saw Cooper's jaw set hard before the TO swung himself out of the car.

"Dewey!" His strident voice was enough to make the smaller man stop in mid-stride.

"Wassup, Coop?" he called back.

Sherman climbed out, leant over his open door to watch the exchange. He could see the aggression in Cooper's movements and wanted to be able to pull the powerful man off if Cooper decided to punch out Dewey in front of the entire station.

"You dumpin' Chickie again?" Cooper demanded.

"I'm sick, man."

"I'm gettin' real tired of you treatin' my friend like shit."

"Coop, whaddya want me to say? I'm sick, alright?"

"Hungover or drunk is not the same as sick."

"What the fuck do you know about it?"

"I know you're prepared to fuck your partner over for more time in some shitty bar."

"Chickie understands I'm dealing with it. She's cool."

"No, Dewey, she's not 'cool'," Cooper mocked. "She's pissed off with covering up for you."

"What'd you know about it?"

"Think she doesn't tell me?"

"Just leave it alone, John, will ya?"

Cooper stepped forward, towering over Dewey, a mountain of hard muscle and bad temper. "You do this to her again, you ain't gonna be answering to Sergeant Hill. You're gonna be dealing with me. You understand what I'm saying to you?"

Dewey's jaw worked as he tried to think of a suitable answer. He bounced on the balls of his feet, not making eye contact with the bigger man.

"Go home, Dewey." Cooper moved back. "Deal with this shit."

Dewey cleared his throat, ran his palm over his cropped hair, then nodded quickly and stepped around Cooper. He shot a hard look at Sherman as he passed.

"Keep your little mouth shut about this, Boot!" he snarled.

"Hey!" Cooper roared after him. "Leave him the fuck alone. I yell at him, not you."

"John fucking Cooper, defender of all."

"Get away from me, you goddam idiot," Cooper growled.

Dewey did just that. Ben looked across the car roof at his partner, watching Cooper's taut shoulders relax now he had done right by Chickie.

"I can handle Dewey, y'know," Sherman felt compelled to say.

Cooper looked across at him and his hard features softened as he smiled. "Yeah but it wouldn't be as much fun for me to yell at you if everyone else does it too."

Sherman laughed. "I kinda like 'defender of all'. You should get it put on your badge."

"Only if you get 90210 on yours."

"You should just get Starskey and Hutch on both," a female voice announced behind them.

They both looked up at the steps, realised Chickie had seen the whole encounter. She jogged down to them, threw her bag into the trunk.

"Thanks, guys," she said quietly.

Cooper threw one arm around her neck, gave her a quick squeeze of reassurance. She patted his bicep, looked up at him with a smile.

"Don't let anyone tell you you're not a good man, Cooper."

"Hear that, Boot?" Cooper moved to the driver's door, threw a grin at Sherman. "That means Chick gets the front seat."

"So if I lie and compliment you, I don't gotta sit in the back?" Sherman asked.

"You could tell me I'm the best-looking cop in the whole of California and you'd still be getting in the back."

Sherman did as he was told. Chickie climbed in the passenger seat, twisted round to grin at him.

"If you tell me I'm the best-looking cop in the whole of California, I'll switch with you."

"Hell no, you won't," Cooper declared. "I've had half the watch with Boot refusing to say more than a sentence at a time. I want someone to talk to."

"Something wrong?" Chickie asked Ben.

"His piece of ass dumped him," Cooper said.

"He means my girlfriend decided she didn't want a relationship with me," Sherman interpreted.

"That's really shitty, Ben, I'm sorry."

Cooper whacked her arm gently with the back of his hand. "Jeez, don't get him crying. Sympathy ain't good for the kid."

"It's called being nice, Coop. You should try it sometime."

"Yeah, right." Cooper turned his head to meet Sherman's eyes, making sure he saw the humour in the deep blue. "You see any action today, Chick?"

"Not unless you call stopping for coffee every twenty minutes action. Dewey's such an asshole."

"Don't think you'll be seeing him for a coupla days now."

A wicked smile lightened Chickie's face. "Yeah, he's gonna be too scared of running into you again."

Cooper smirked at the intimidation compliment but didn't respond to it. "We're havin' a dead day, too. Boot's fault for taking a garbage call."

"You're lucky you didn't get your ass kicked," Chickie told Ben.

"He was saving himself for Dewey," Ben replied. "And that was not a garbage call, man."

"What, just 'cos you got to be a little hero, that doesn't make it a garbage call?" Cooper winked at Chickie. "You not hear it on the radio?"

"I think I was busy yelling at Dewey."

"Hey, Boot, someone to listen to your hero story. Go for it. Listen up, Chick, you got a lifesaver sittin' behind you."

Sherman was only too happy to recount the tale to someone who might be slightly more admiring than Cooper.


	3. Chapter 3

**PART 3**

By 5pm, both men were hungry once more and Cooper stopped off at their favourite Chinese joint. Sherman had gone quiet again but Chickie was keeping him entertained with tales of the blog written by Russ Clarke's wife. Cooper wondered if he should check if Laurie had a blog.

He paid the check when it arrived, because he knew Chickie was saving for a new surfboard and because he wanted Sherman to realise, without actually having to tell him, that he was proud of the way he had acted at the hanging incident. Sherman knew not to say anything but he gave a boyish smile that said he got it.

Cooper tossed him the fortune cookie. "Here, your turn."

"You take it in turns to crack the fortune cookie?" Chickie asked in disbelief.

"We only come here once a week," Cooper said. "What else we gonna do, fight over it?"

"It's actually like you're married."

"If we were married, I'd never get the cookie," Sherman grinned.

"Shut up before I take it back," Cooper threatened.

Sherman snapped the cookie, gave one half to Chickie. Grinned more widely as he read the fortune. "Happiness and money will soon come your way."

"That must mean your dad's fucked-up liver's gonna blow and you'll get the majority share of the inheritance."

"Don't get my hopes up." Sherman crunched his half of the cookie and tossed the fortune in the trash.

They strolled back out to the cruiser, settled in their seats. Chickie handed round mints and toothpicks.

"I am bored outta my tiny little mind," Cooper declared as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Try reading more," Chickie advised. "It'll expand your tiny little mind and then you won't get bored so easily."

"I read," Cooper protested.

"Car magazines and the sports pages don't count."

"I saw him reading a poem once," Sherman offered.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, it was like, what's it called… a limerick. Tagged on the wall outside the station."

Chickie cracked up laughing.

"Shut up, Boot," Cooper ordered.

"I'm not allowed to ride in the front; I don't have to be nice to you," Sherman grinned.

"And don't smile."

"I'm not allowed to smile either?"

"No."

Chickie watched the exchange with an amused smile playing on her own lips.

Cooper gave her a steely glare. "What you laughing at?"

"I'm gonna get an invite to the wedding, right?"

"I'll drop you back at the kit room right now if you keep going."

"I ain't gettin' married," Sherman declared. "I'm staying single and playing the field for as long as I can."

"Do we look like we care about your sex plans?" Cooper demanded.

"Chickie does."

"No, she doesn't. Jeez, you hardly say a word all watch then when you finally start talking, all I want you to do is shut up."

Chickie was saved from having to intervene in the mock battle of words by the radio.

"Garbage call," Cooper declared despite not having been listening. His instincts were usually right, as he always trying to tell the boot.

Chickie had already grabbed the handset and confirmed they were en route. Cooper sent her a glare but as usual, it had no effect. Chickie was probably the only person in the whole of West Bureau he couldn't intimidate.

"Hispanic female minor being assaulted by black male, wearing red shirt and red baseball cap, 102nd Street, parking lot behind the 7-Eleven," the radio announced.

"Goddam teenage hookers pissing off their pimps," Cooper grumbled as he floored the gas.

"How'd you know she's gonna be a hooker?" Chickie asked

"Think about the location we've just heard, then ask me that question again if you need to. Meanwhile, I'll ask the boot who's been working around here for all of fricking five minutes what he thinks."

"Hooker," Sherman agreed on cue.

Cooper gave Chickie his best superior look and took great pleasure in cornering at top speed. Chickie ignored him, flicked on the lights.

They arrived to find Cooper's predicted teenager hooker standing in the middle of the parking lot, dripping blood from nose and mouth, and screeching at a young Latino male who was either trying to reason with her or trying to shut her up.

"Chick, go for the hooker," Cooper ordered. "Boot, you're cover for me."

They climbed out the car; Cooper and Sherman with their weapons drawn as they approached the young male.

"Hands where I can see them," Cooper ordered. "You packin'?"

"No, man, I ain't got nothin'!"

Cooper kept his gun trained on the youth. "Turn around and place your hands on the hood of the car behind you."

A momentary glare before the guy complied. Cooper nodded at Sherman, kept a close watch as the rookie holstered his own weapon, hustled the guy into a spread against the conveniently parked Camaro and snapped on the cuffs.

Chickie had handed the scantily-clad girl a tissue, was trying to talk to her as the hooker bemoaned her broken nails. "Coop, the call said a black male in Rollin 60s colours," she called. "That's a Latino male in Avenues colours."

"I don't bang, man!" the guy protested.

"Shut up!" Cooper barked.

"He my cousin, he din't do nothin'!" the hooker joined in, swiping blood from her mouth.

"Then where's the guy who was beating you?" Chickie asked.

"I don' know! Gone, I guess."

"Your pimp?" Cooper called across.

She stared sullenly at him. "Maybe."

"And this gentleman here had nothing to do with?"

"No, man, I tol' you! He my cousin. He live right around the corner; he heard me yellin' an' he came out."

Sherman completed his pat-down of the handcuffed man and stood up, shaking his head in response to Cooper's questioning eyebrow.

"Okay, unhook him and turn him loose," Cooper said, holstering his gun and stepping away. Chickie was still trying to reason with the teenage girl and he sure as hell wasn't getting involved in that shit.

Sherman got his cuffs back, watched the Latino hurriedly jog away across the parking lot, defending his so-called cousin seemingly no longer a priority for him. Cooper barked a laugh as the boy's baggy jeans almost tripped him.

"Fuckin' dumbasses," he declared, leaning back against the car hood as he began filling in the log-sheet.

Sherman nodded his agreement, shoving his hands into his pockets as he casually observed Chickie talking gently to the hooker. Cooper continued scribbling down details, considering grabbing more coffee from the 7-Eleven as he saw Chickie give up her counselling session and turn away.

When he heard the gunshot crack across the parking lot, he looked up just in time to see the hooker fall, blood instantly spreading across the front of her skin-tight shirt. She didn't move again.

"Shit!" Cooper dropped the log-sheet, went for his gun. Couldn't see the shooter for a second, then realised a black man in a red tee had just emerged from behind the Camaro. He grabbed his lapel mic. "6-A-43, officers need assistance at our location. Shots fired. One civilian victim; request RA unit."

As he spoke, he realised Chickie had run to try and help the hooker. There was no cover for her to take as she crouched beside the fallen girl; her gun was drawn but it wouldn't save her from the next bullet. Her instinctive reaction had done nothing but put her directly in the line of fire.

Sherman reacted like a lightning bolt. Within a second he was there, grabbing Chickie and wrestling her to the ground. Chickie's gun skittered away, knocked from her hand as she hit the deck. It came to a stop under the cruiser, safe from the wrong hands but useless to protect its owner.

Sherman jumped back into a crouch, covering Chickie with his own body as he reached for his gun. Didn't have time to get more than a finger to it before the next shot was fired.

In the split second it took, Cooper could do nothing but watch the bullet hit Ben Sherman square in the chest. Watch his partner be thrown back by the force, landing flat on his back. Motionless. Heard himself shout Ben's name.

A sharp cry escaped from Chickie and she scrabbled to Sherman's side, tearing open his uniform shirt to check his Kevlar had saved him. In her panic, she didn't think to go for Ben's gun. Didn't think to cover them.

John Cooper was a good cop because he could read people; he could tell how they were about to react. He knew he was rarely wrong. And right now, he knew this man was about to shoot his partner again.

Cooper didn't hesitate. Didn't think about raising his gun and taking a shot. By the time his bullet would have hit the perp, Sherman would already have taken the second lead and it almost certainly wouldn't be to his Kevlar that time. And Chickie would once again be in the line of fire.

Hardly aware of the enraged roar exploding from his chest, Cooper lowered his head and charged. Refused to consider the high possibility of the gun being turned on him before he could make contact. Hit the guy in a tackle Lawrence Taylor would have been proud of. Sent them both flying over the hood of the Camaro, hitting the ground on the other side in a tangle of flailing limbs.

The gun flew in the opposite direction. Clattered against the asphalt. No shot fired.

"Ben!" Cooper bellowed. "Talk to me!"

"I'm okay!" he heard Sherman yell back.

That was just enough to reassure him and allow him to focus his attention on the guy sprawled on the ground beside him, the air knocked out of him. He barely put up a struggle as Cooper threw him onto his belly. One knee crunching into the back of the guy's neck, Cooper twisted the arms almost to breaking point. Snapped on the cuffs as tight as he could. Hauled the guy to his knees and dragged him around the car. Shoved him back to the floor.

"You fuckin' move, I will shoot your head off," he growled.

Leaving the perp sprawled on his face, he went to his partner, ignoring the body of the young prostitute. She was beyond saving; the blood had stopped spreading, her heart ceasing to pump it. Her sightless eyes stared up at the grey sky.

Ben was shakily sitting up, fingers scrabbling at his Kevlar to find the bullet hole, to assure himself it had not entered his body. His eyes immediately locked with Cooper's, searching for the reassurance his partner's solid presence could always give him.

"You're alright, Ben," Cooper said quietly, kneeling before him. He grabbed hold of Ben's hands, gently pulled them away. Undid the Kevlar for him and tugged it over his head. Showed him the bullet lodged in the vest.

Sherman expelled a long, shaky breath. His eyes hadn't moved from Cooper's. Shock blazed in the bright blue.

"Jesus," Chickie was whispering over and over again. She was sat on the asphalt, knees drawn up to her chest, hugging her legs. The dead hooker lay close by but Chickie had forgotten all about her. "Jesus."

Cooper was vaguely aware he was in pain from the plunge over the car hood but his adrenaline was pumping too hard for him to pay much attention to it.

"Chickie!" he said, not harshly but loud enough to snap her out of it. "Look at me!"

Her head came up sharply, eyes jumping from the girl's body to Cooper.

"Go get your weapon from under the cruiser. Update the watch commander. Deal with the RA when they get here." Cooper kept his steady gaze fixed on her. "And calm the fuck down. This isn't the first time you've been shot at."

His acceptance of the danger they had been in seemed to calm Chickie and she got to her feet, went to crawl under the cruiser and retrieve her gun. Cooper turned his attention back to his partner.

"You gonna sit around on your ass all night, Boot?" he asked.

Sherman managed a sideways grin and took another deep breath. "No sir."

Cooper smiled back, offered Sherman his hand. "Get the hell up, then."

Sherman let Cooper pull him to his feet. Again Cooper felt a reaction of pain but he could still shrug it off. He also felt how violently Sherman was shaking.

He stepped close beside him; let him know that he was not alone. Knew his unshakeable demeanour would calm the rookie.

"You're okay, Boot," he said. And when Ben made eye contact with him, he saw the shock beginning to recede.

Cooper glanced over at Chickie. Saw her hands were shaking as she relayed information into her radio mic. But he didn't go to her.

He was sticking by his partner's side.


	4. Chapter 4

**PART 4**

They both stood under hot showers, letting the water wash the day's dirt from their bodies as if it could do the same to their souls.

"You alright?" Sherman glanced across at Cooper.

Cooper, standing with his face tilted up into the shower stream, kept his eyes closed. "Yeah," he said calmly, his voice perfectly even. As if he wasn't fighting an inner battle with pain.

He lowered his head, opened his eyes. Looked at Sherman.

"Think you had a good day today?"

A smile tugged at the corners of Sherman's lips. His features were tired but his eyes were alive with the adrenaline of the shift. He looked like a cop who knew his own capabilities.

"Yeah," he said quietly, a hint of pride in his voice.

Cooper allowed his infamous half-smile to show. "You did good, Boot."

Sherman managed to keep his expression neutral but his eyes told how much the praise meant to him. Cooper felt a momentary stab of guilt for not giving him encouraging words more often but reminded himself that too much praise made rookies overconfident and cocky, and that was when they made dangerous mistakes.

Besides, it always meant more if said infrequently.

"This is what it's all about," he said, holding Sherman's gaze. "When you end the day feeling like you did something right by someone who needed help, that's when it's worth all the other shit you gotta take."

Sherman's smile widened. "Feels pretty cool, huh?"

"Remember how it feels. It's what helps you through the bad days when they come."

Sherman nodded his understanding, reflecting silently for a moment as hot water streamed over his head. "You still like doing the job, Coop?" he asked after a minute.

Cooper didn't reply immediately. "Tell you somethin', Ben, I'd be nothing without this job. It means everything to me. If I wasn't a cop, I wouldn't know who the hell to be. That's the truth." His eyes burned into Sherman's. "I love putting on the badge every damn day, no matter how bad it gets. We got the best job in the world, man."

"'Cept if we get shot."

"Yeah, there is that, I guess."

Towels wrapped around their waists, they headed for the lockers. The bullet bruise on Ben's sternum was turning a deep shade of purple; he examined it in the mirror whilst trying to look as if he wasn't proud of it. Cooper hid a grin.

"Shame you ain't got a girl waitin' at home for you," he said. "That woulda scored you some major sympathy points."

"After the last girl, I think I'm happy havin' the bed to myself for a while."

"You still coming for a beer?"

"Hell yeah."

"Chickie's gonna come too."

"Cool."

Cooper pulled a black t-shirt over his head, let the material sculpt itself to his broad torso. "She woulda taken that bullet if you hadn't grabbed her, Ben," he said quietly. "She scared the hell outta me today."

"She thought she was doing the right thing."

"She didn't think; that's the problem. She just reacted."

"And you tackling a guy waving a gun, that wasn't a reaction?"

Cooper shook his head. "I knew what I was doing. If I'd have shot him, he'd still have had time to pull the trigger at you. I wasn't gonna stand there and watch you die."

"He mighta missed." Sherman tried to lighten the suddenly-heavy atmosphere.

Cooper's eyes didn't waver from the younger man's. "I promised I'd look out for you as long as it didn't cost me my badge or my freedom. I never said anything about costing me my life. 'Cos for me, I'd rather I took a dirt nap than I saw my partner die."

He saw Sherman's eyes flicker with realisation. "I hear you, Coop," he said quietly. "I'd do the same."

"Hope I never put you in the situation, kid."

"But if you did…"

Cooper nodded, letting him know this didn't need to be voiced. "I know." He buckled his belt, grabbed his duffel bag. "Let's get the hell outta here."

Ben didn't feel ready to let this rare moment go yet. "Thanks for what you did, Coop," he said quietly.

"Me? You saved Chickie's life tonight."

"Yeah, and you saved mine."

Cooper smiled. "So we all saved each other. We're all fucking heroes. Now can we shut up about it and drink?"

They departed the locker room together, snagged Chickie on the way out. Stepped out into the cool night air, the rain finally gone. Cooper walked across the car park with one arm across Chickie's shoulders. Reached out and slung the other arm around Ben's neck, just for a moment, just long enough for Ben to feel the hard bicep tighten.

The hard-ass cop's way of saying: 'I'm proud of you, kid'.

X X X

O'Malley's was rammed with cops. Shauna was in with Vic and Eddie and a few more of the Vice crowd and they immediately shouted Cooper over to them. Sherman watched her hug Cooper with delight, her smile wide and genuine. He had trained Shauna years ago now, yet their bond was still strong. Sherman wondered if the big man had been hard on her too.

Chickie got the first round in, lured Cooper back with a bottle of beer and a short of whiskey. Sherman sank his tequila shot and tapped his beer against Chickie's.

"Thanks for today, Ben," she said quietly.

He shook his head. "Forget about it."

Cooper grabbed a barstool. "Such a modest hero."

"Shut up, Coop." Chickie's palm whacked him in the back of the head.

"I didn't tackle a guy waving a 9mil," Sherman said, taking half his beer down in two swallows. He wasn't about long, slow drinking tonight. He wanted to feel the alcohol's reassuring buzz quickly, before he got to thinking about hanging children and dead teenage hookers and Daisy walking down Fifth Avenue with her boyfriend.

Cooper nodded to the barman, set a second shot of tequila in front of his rookie. Ben tapped it against Cooper's raised whiskey glass and downed it.

"Hey, you guys in for the night?" Shauna called over.

Cooper looked at Sherman sucking down his beer like he'd not seen liquid for days. "Looks like it."

"Cool, we're gonna play tequila pool!"

Cooper rolled his eyes and gave a derogatory refusal but Ben bounded over enthusiastically. Chickie leant gently on Cooper's shoulder.

"Vice will kick his ass."

"Kid's actually not bad at pool," Cooper admitted. "He's beat me a few times."

"It's not the prospect of losing that's bothering you." Chickie rested her hand low on his back, careful not to apply any pressure. Cooper refused to react, slugged from his beer. No way he was going to admit that leaning over a pool cue would bring only more pain.

"You not drinking?" he asked to deflect attention away from himself, indicating Chickie's full beer.

"Got a kid to go home to at some point. I got a few hours though."

"I told the boot I wouldn't let him get drunk alone tonight," he said, as if he needed to explain himself.

"He seems to be getting drunk with Vice just fine," Chickie said as they both observed Sherman downing his second pool tequila.

"Give 'em another twenty minutes and they'll have eaten him alive," Cooper declared.

Sure enough, within a quarter hour the tequila had gotten too much and Ben had re-joined them, followed by some choice wisecracks from the Vice crowd. Sherman took the shouts with good nature and they turned back to their own drinking mission.

"You lost a few games, huh?" Cooper couldn't help but grin as he watched Sherman coordinate raising his beer bottle to his lips.

Sherman shrugged, ordered another two more slammers and slid one across to Cooper. Smirking at the challenge, Cooper saluted the rookie with the glass and downed it without a grimace.

"Boot, I can drink a bottle of that stuff and still walk out of here while you're in the ER gettin' your stomach pumped."

"Can we not test that theory tonight?" Chickie requested.

Cooper grinned at her. "You're no fun."

"I'm lots of fun, you just don't appreciate me."

"I want some fries," Sherman announced.

Cooper looked from his partner to Chickie and burst out laughing. "The fuck am I doing drinking with you two?"

They got the humour out of their systems and gradually settled down to an easy routine of beer, shots, more beer, more shots. Chickie watched the two men attempt to outdrink each other and even though Ben was aware he stood more chance of arresting a unicorn than beating Cooper at any form of drinking competition, he kept going. It was better to do that than to stop and consider the thoughts that were fighting for attention in his mind.

"You on a mission tonight, Boot?" Cooper asked him eventually when Chickie headed for a bathroom visit.

Sherman shrugged. "I don't wanna think."

"Beer and tequila won't stop that forever."

"Might do for long enough to let me sleep."

"That chick really fuck you up so bad?"

"I dunno, Coop." Ben was drunk enough to let his exasperation show. "I don't know if this is even about Daisy. Maybe it's about me?"

"What about you?"

"Like, that I can't deal with any kind of relationship without fucking it up. That I feel like I want someone to share my life but soon as I get the chance, I push it away."

"You didn't push Daisy away."

"No, and look where it got me."

"You're not that fucked up, Ben."

Sherman's eyes met Cooper. "I never let anyone get close to me. Not ever. But with Daisy, I did. 'Cos I thought she was worth it. I risked my badge for her. And I didn't care because I wanted to let her in. I wanted her to understand me. First person in a long time. And she threw it back in my face."

"You've let me in," Cooper said quietly.

Ben was momentarily thrown at the acknowledgement, at the fact Cooper had realised he trusted him with some of his darkest secrets. "That's different," he eventually said. "You're my partner."

"And that makes it different?"

"'Course it does. I rely you to keep me alive everyday. If I trust you with that, 'course I'm gonna trust you with personal stuff."

Cooper drew on his beer. "If it means anything, Boot, I've told you stuff I've never told any rookie before."

"I know."

"I don't usually think of boots as partners. They're just kids I have to teach; I don't consider them cops in their own right." Cooper looked at Sherman with such directness he found he couldn't look away. "But you're my partner. End of."

Sherman knew he had his mouth slightly open, as he so often did when he was concentrating on what was being said.

"Thanks, Coop," he said quietly.

Cooper nodded casually, as if relieved Ben had played it cool and not made a big deal out of what had just been said.

"You fuck up after what I've just told you, I'm gonna fuckin' kill you," he declared.

Sherman grinned widely, somewhat relieved to hear the typical wise-ass Cooper remark.

"Yes sir," he said.

Cooper looked away, took another gulp of beer. But Ben didn't miss the smile that crossed the big man's face. And he was smart enough to understand that it was a smile of pride.

X X X

"Time for me to get going," Chickie announced several hours later, climbing down from her barstool.

Cooper was at the relaxed stage of drunkenness that always saw him in his most agreeable mood. He hated to end a night out when he was enjoying himself.

"Think I'll hit a few more bars," he said.

"You wanna come to my place?" Chickie asked.

"You got beer, right?"

"Obviously."

"I'm in." Cooper looked at the swaying Sherman. "C'mon, Boot, if we let you go home alone you'll drink yourself into a coma."

Sherman wavered in his decision.

"You said you didn't want to get drunk alone," Chickie countered.

"I'm already drunk."

"Not enough to knock you out. You'll only go home and have more. I got a nice place, you should come see it."

Cooper didn't say anything cajoling, wasn't about to admit the thought of the young cop sitting alone brooding on the day's events bothered him. Sherman still hadn't learnt not to take things personally; he got too involved. Cooper would put money on the kid spending the rest of the night awake, letting what he had seen today overwhelm him as much as the thoughts of his broken relationship.

"Let's go, bro," he eventually said, getting to his feet. Saw the surprise on Sherman's face at the way he had been addressed.

It seemed to make the rookie's decision for him. He stood and struggled into his jacket. "Okay, I'm in."

Chickie led the way out, slipping her arm through Sherman's to make sure he didn't miss the door and rebound off the frame. Cooper stayed behind him, ready to catch him if he failed to negotiate the steps up to street level. But Ben surpassed expectations and made it out unscathed and without help, cheerfully waving farewell to the Vice crowd.

"Hey, Coop, we're cool, right?" he asked, slurring only slightly.

"Boot, you've never been cool in your life."

"I mean after today."

Cooper looked like someone had just told him coffee didn't contain caffeine. "Did we start talkin' in some Beverly Hills rich-boy code and you forgot to tell me?"

"He means are you gonna yell at him tomorrow for taking the bullet?" Chickie translated.

Cooper laughed. "No, I'm not gonna yell at him. I might test the taser on him for a while but I'm not gonna yell."

Sherman looked slightly concerned by this idea but Chickie patted him reassuringly on the shoulder and steered him towards her car.


	5. Chapter 5

**PART 5**

Chickie's house was in Toluca Lake, easy distance on the highway from Cooper's neighbourhood but a fair way from Ben's place. He briefly wondered how the hell he was going to get home after the drinking session finally ended, but couldn't make his fuzzy brain concentrate for long enough to think up a solution.

Abandoning the consideration, he climbed out of Chickie's SUV as she parked in the steep driveway. Would have ended up bouncing his face off the ground if Cooper hadn't grabbed him in time.

"Jeez, I gotta teach you how to drink," Cooper said with a crooked grin that said it wasn't a reprimand.

Sherman righted himself and tried to look sober. "Not part of your remit, sir."

"Tris gonna be home?" Cooper asked as Chickie let them into the single-level ranch-style house.

"My son," Chickie explained to Sherman. "He'll be on the X-Box as usual."

"How old is he?" Ben asked.

"Just turned fourteen. He insisted I convert the garage into his bedroom for his birthday. So he wouldn't have to be separated from his surfboards."

"Excuse me?" Cooper interrupted. "Who converted the damn garage?"

"Alright, Coop did most of the work," Chickie admitted with a grin.

"I think you'll find I did all of the work while you stood around and complained about everything you thought I was doing wrong."

"Whatever."

"I thought about shooting myself with the nail gun just to get you to shut up."

"You'd only have missed." Chickie forged ahead into the kitchen, pulled out three beers and handed them round. Opened a bag of peanuts with her teeth and decanted them into a bowl before leaded the way into the comfortable living room.

Sherman took the two-seater leather couch, watching Cooper and Chickie share the big corner sofa with the relaxed ease of a long friendship. The drive out here had calmed his head slightly; he was aware he was drunk but the world no longer seemed to be spinning uncontrollably. He took another mouthful of beer, feeling relaxation spreading through him like a warm blanket had been pulled over him.

"You okay, Ben?" Chickie asked, already on her second beer now she no longer had driving responsibility.

Ben smiled. "Yeah, I'm good," he said, and for the first time in days, he felt like he was.

"Any music requests?" Chickie got up to turn on the iPod dock.

"Anything that's not your girly 80s shit," Cooper ordered.

He went to retrieve more beers from the fridge as Chickie searched for an inoffensive playlist, handed Ben a fresh bottle.

"Just so you know, I'm fine with girly 80s shit," Sherman told him.

Cooper smirked. "Good to know."

X X X

Around midnight, Chickie's son wandered in to see what the noise was about, seemingly oblivious to the cold in just a pair of board shorts. He was tall for fourteen, long limbs and torso showing wiry muscle beginning to develop. The beach had bleached his blond hair and bronzed him as if it was the height of summer. A good-looking kid. Relaxed and confident in his own skin.

"Do I even wanna ask what you're still doing up?" Chickie demanded.

"Do I even wanna ask how I'm supposed to sleep with you guys hollering and laughing in here?" Tristan shot back with a huge grin.

There wasn't much Chickie could say in response to that but she'd already lost her son's attention anyway as Tristan crossed to high five Cooper.

"How's it goin', Tris?" Cooper greeted him.

"Hey, Coop." The kid was as dismissive of formality as his mother. "I'm good."

"This is my partner Ben."

"New boot. Mom told me." Tristan grinned. "Good to meet you, Ben."

"Hey, Tris," was the best Sherman could manage without slurring his words.

"You on tomorrow?" Tristan asked his mother, looking at the collection of empty bottles on the table.

"Not 'til afternoon."

The kid grinned widely. "So party's on, right?"

"Not for you, Beach Boy."

He shrugged his wide shoulders. "Whatever. I'm skating before school anyway. I'll get myself up."

"You deliberately trying to make me sound like a bad mother?"

"He doesn't need to try," Cooper grinned, earning himself a hefty slap.

Tristan sat on the arm of the couch, leaning one tanned forearm against Cooper's broad shoulder. Cooper, completely relaxed at the closeness, exchanged a fist bump with the teenager before giving his blond locks a playful knuckle scrub.

"How's life, kid?"

"Pretty good. Can I have a beer?"

Cooper grinned and handed over his bottle, clearly amused by Chickie's outraged glare. Tristan took a quick swig and handed it back, apparently not taken with the taste.

"Coop, you got the Lakers' tickets?"

"I'm on it," Cooper assured him.

"Don't forget, alright?"

"I'll put a memo on my phone."

"You know how to do that?" Tristan grinned.

"You're gettin' way too much like your mother."

"Jeez, don't say that!"

"Hey, I am here, y'know!" Chickie got up and threw her arm round her son's neck, pulling him against her for a hug. "Bedtime, hotshot."

Tristan allowed her the hug without embarrassment, getting to his feet and letting his mother push him gently towards the door.

"Say goodnight to the degenerates," Chickie told him.

"Night, Ben," Tris said cheerfully. "Hope Coop doesn't bug you too much."

"Too late," Sherman drawled. "See ya, Tris."

"Check ya later, Coop." Tris snapped a salute towards Cooper as the bigger man bounced a peanut off Ben's forehead in reprimand.

"I'll text you about the tickets."

"Cool. Should only take you a half hour per word."

Chickie marched her son garage-ward and Cooper pulled out his phone, tossed it to Sherman, who lunged to catch it and nearly tipped himself off the couch. Just managed to cling on.

Cooper ignored the uncoordinated struggle. "You know how to do a memo?"

Ben fought to keep from showing his amusement. "I do."

"Get on with it, then. Lakers tickets."

Sherman obediently tapped the correct icon and typed in the text, frowning in concentration to make his fingers follow his brain's slow instructions. "You want me to teach you?"

"Hell no. I figure the less I know about technology, the less I have to use it."

Unable to help grinning, Ben saved the memo and thumbed back to the home screen. Before he flipped the phone closed, he caught a glimpse of the background picture. He'd seen it plenty of times before but never given much thought to the photo of Cooper standing behind a grinning blond boy, towering over the kid with his big arms wrapped around the boy's shoulders.

Sherman looked again, seeing the two were comfortable and relaxed in each other's company. He'd always assumed it was Cooper's nephew or godson but never found a reason to ask.

Now he realised it was Chickie's son.

"I didn't realise you knew Tris," he said casually, throwing the phone back.

Cooper caught it with annoying ease. Shrugged. "Known the kid most of his life. After his shithead father took off and never came back, Chickie needed some help. So I took him to the park at weekends, taught him to play catch, stuff like that. He used to love it if I picked him up from school in uniform. Now it's basketball games and all-you-can-eat Hawaiian joints when I got time off."

"That's cool."

"He's a good kid. He's growin' up right."

"Thanks to you." Chickie strolled back in with yet another fresh bottle of beer.

"I didn't raise him, darlin'."

"You helped to. Hell, he called you Uncle Coop for ten years of his life." Chickie took a long drink. "You've been more of a father to the kid than that asshole who provided the sperm and fuck-all else."

Cooper actually blushed, quickly looked at his feet to hide it.

"Tris loves you to death, Coop. You've been there for him long as he can remember."

"Jeez, Chick, I only threw baseballs with him and took him to Lakers games."

"And went to his parent-teacher meetings when I couldn't get off. Held him while he had his chin stitched back together after his first skateboarding attempt. Taught him how to throw a good punch." Chickie grinned widely. "And told him what a condom is for."

Ben realised he was smiling at the thought of Cooper taking such fatherly responsibility for a young boy.

"Quit makin' me sound like a pussy," Cooper grumbled. "Where's the damn alcohol gone?"

"You want Scotch?"

"Boot can't take real man drinks."

"Then let Ben drink what he wants and you leave him alone and have the Scotch."

"You're such a mother."

"Go grab the bottle, you know where it is. I'm going for a cigarette."

"I'll come," Ben announced.

Cooper stared at him like he'd just grown a second head. "Since when do you smoke?"

"When I get drunk enough not to care."

"But you're Mr Clean-Cut USA."

Ben shook his head, grinned. "Thought you knew me better than that, John."

He followed Chickie through the kitchen, out onto the large deck. The remainder of the garden dropped away steeply and would be of little use for horticulture but the view from the deck rendered it irrelevant. The whole San Fernando Valley seemed to spread out before them.

"You got a great place," he said, drawing a cigarette from the pack of Marlboros Chickie proffered.

Chickie was still smiling broadly. "The look on Cooper's face. You've shattered his illusions of you now."

Ben leant in for the light she held out, inhaled momentarily. He rarely smoked but there were times when alcohol alone wasn't enough to relax his mind. Nicotine took the edge off his thoughts when they got too much.

"What illusions?" He released a cloud into the night air.

"That you're the West Bureau's golden boy," Chickie laughed.

"As if he thinks that."

Chickie took a long drag on her own Marlboro. "Coop thinks a lot of you, Ben. He won't ever say it but he does. He's got a lotta time for you."

"He spends most of that time tellin' me what I did wrong."

"He wants what's best for you. He's not trying to be a dick; he's trying to make you a good cop."

Sherman smiled softly. "I know, Chick."

"Don't ever think he's yelling at you 'cos he doesn't like you."

"I don't. I figured it he hated me, he'd have thrown me outta his cruiser by now."

"It wouldn't be the first time he's done that. If he thinks a boot isn't gonna make the grade, he can make their life hell. He's never gonna do that to you.

Sherman nodded that he understood this, at the same time very aware of Chickie's attempts to demonstrate her loyalty to Cooper. He still remembered Cooper introducing Chickie to him for the first time.

"Chickie's our star. She rocks."

He remembered the smile on Cooper's lips and the way Chickie's eyes had danced with pride as she'd looked at her friend. He hoped that Cooper's doubts about Chickie's recent capability on the street wouldn't damage the deep friendship between the two P3s. Chickie was good for Cooper; she brought out the human side of him, softened him.

"I hear you, Chick," he said quietly.

X X X

Chickie had been talked into microwaving popcorn and took the opportunity to remember she was a mother and to check on her son, who was sprawled fast asleep across his bed still holding a block of board wax. Returning to the kitchen, she found Ben had retreated to the deck once again with another of her Marlboros.

"The kid's got issues," she said as Cooper wandered in to check on the popcorn progress. "Even when he's drunk, he can't switch off."

"He's alright," Cooper said loyally, peering into the microwave

"Go talk to him, Coop."

"Why me?"

"He's your boot, as you keep telling everyone."

"He needs to get over this empathy bullshit he's got goin' on."

"That's part of him John. You ain't gonna be able to knock that outta him."

"I can try."

Chickie gave a push. "Talk to him.

Cooper allowed himself to be shoved out onto the deck but he'd consumed a good amount of whisky and his idea of a reassuring talk was to grab Sherman and manhandle him back inside. Hustle him to the living room and push him onto the couch.

"Eat popcorn," he ordered, taking the half-smoked cigarette from Sherman and shoving the bowl at him.

"Coop, you're like a goddam bull," Chickie said in exasperation, following them through.

"On the streets, that's a good thing."

"Yeah, he's great at charging down doors," Sherman agreed through a mouthful of popcorn, curling up as he got comfortable against the cushions.

"You catch 'em, I'll kick their ass," Cooper declared, grabbing the bowl back and settling on the other couch.

"Like fricking Cassidy and Sundance," Chickie muttered.

She saw the look pass between the partners. They understood each other, those two. Whether they would admit it or not, they clicked. Chickie had good instincts when it came to people and she had seen early on in Sherman's training that he would be a solid partner for the difficult Cooper. There were a lot of similarities there. And when the two made eye contact, it was clear they knew that. They were starting to accept the bond growing between them.

She went back to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water to try and convince her system that there was no more alcohol coming. Returned to the living room to find Ben had succumbed to dozing on his couch. Cooper had stretched out over the other, still very much awake and sipping whisky as if he'd barely had anything to drink all night.

"Move over," Chickie ordered, gently pushing him until he groaned in frustration and made room for her on the wide couch.

"I just got frickin' comfortable," he complained, laying himself down against her once she'd got settled, resting his head on her shoulder. The weight of his big, solid body was warm and comforting and Chickie threw her arm around him.

"Thanks for today, Coop," he said quietly. "For everything."

"Shuddup being grateful, for fuck's sake," he groused.

"You're an asshole."

"I know. But you love me anyway."

Chickie snorted derisively but didn't bother to deny it.

"Chick," he said quietly. "You can't ever put Ben in that sorta position again. Next time I might not be quick enough to stop it. I won't see my partner die because you misread a situation. You hear what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I hear you," Chickie whispered.

"I promised to protect him. I can't do that if you don't get your head together."

"It won't happen again, John."

His blue eyes stared deep into hers but they were gentle, no harsh accusation darkening them. Chickie hugged him for a moment, relieved that he wasn't blaming her. Felt him shift his body weight, blowing out a sharp breath.

"You in pain?" she asked.

"Not much," he mumbled.

Her hand slid to the spot she knew was always at the centre of the discomfort. Felt him tense instinctively but he trusted her and as she rubbed gentle circles across his shirt, he let himself relax.

"You need to deal with this, John."

"I'm trying." His voice made it clear he wasn't prepared to have a discussion about it.

Chickie decided not to push him; it had been a hard day and she was acutely aware it could have ended very differently had it not been for Cooper risking his own body. She slid her hand under his shirt, felt the tension in the hard muscle. Continued rubbing her palm against the worst spot. He allowed her the contact, as he usually did, relaxing against her. She knew, apart from Laurie, she was the only one he let get this close.

She saw Ben watching them quietly from half-closed eyes, a hint of a smile on his lips. His gaze met Chickie's and he nodded almost imperceptibly.

Then he laid down his head and quietly passed out.


	6. Chapter 6

**PART 6**

"Coop." A voice penetrated Cooper's slumber. "Wake up, man."

Cooper reluctantly opened one eye to find Tristan standing over him, drinking from a carton of orange juice, skateboard tucked under his arm. Realised he was still on the couch, covered by a thick blanket. Alone, at least. Chickie must have hauled herself off to bed at some forgotten point.

"Coop," Tristan said more insistently.

Cooper forced himself to concentrate. "You wanna ride to school?" he mumbled, hearing his voice scratching in his throat from too much Scotch.

"Nah, I'm good. I'm goin' skating first; I'll come back and change before school."

Cooper nodded that he remembered.

"Coop, is Mom okay?" Tristan asked quietly.

"How'd you mean?" Cooper opened the other eye to look directly at the kid.

"Like, at work. She doesn't seem happy with it."

"She's okay, Tris. She's just got a few issues with her partner right now."

"You mean that drunk guy?"

Cooper couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, that one."

Tristan shook his head derisively. "He's not her partner. You guys are partners." He nodded to the sleeping Sherman on the other couch. "He's just some guy she rides with."

"She talk to you about it?"

"Not really. Just sometimes, y'know, she comes home really pissed off and she just needs to sound off. She tries not to tell me too much but I don't mind, man. I'd rather she talked about it than just pretended everything was alright."

"She knows she can always talk to me, right?"

Tristan nodded. "She knows you're there for her, Coop. She said last night that you'd got into it with the guy."

"I just told him what was gonna happen if he kept makin' her life difficult."

"Thanks, man."

"Anytime." Cooper made sure the kid held his gaze. "Seriously, Tris, you don't have to worry about her. I'm gonna sort it, okay?"

Tristan nodded again, hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder. "I'd better get goin'."

"Have a good skate."

"I will. You're alright, yeah?"

"'Course I am."

Tristan held out his hand for a palm slap, grinned and departed with his skateboard. Cooper dragged the blankets back over himself, settled down again in the hope of sleep returning.

X X X

Sherman woke early, as he usually did when hungover. Cooper was snoring underneath his blanket on the opposite couch; Chickie was nowhere to be seen. No comforting smell of brewing coffee or the crackle of frying bacon. Suggesting she was still out for the count as well.

Disentangling himself from his own blankets, Ben stretched out his cramped limbs and considered his options. Aspirin was very necessary. Water would be good. Food was greatly desired.

"Coop, you awake?" he asked.

"Only if you've got coffee," Cooper mumbled, burying his head under his cushion.

"No coffee."

"Shut the hell up then."

Footsteps too soft to be a teenage boy announced Chickie's arrival, last night's makeup still evident and wearing a huge LAPD sweatshirt. She seemed to be struggling to coordinate walking and talking, so she gave up and slumped against the doorframe.

"Jesus, why do I never think about the consequences?" she moaned. "My head's gonna explode."

"My stomach's trying to eat itself," Ben agreed, managing to sit upright and immediately regretting it.

"You want to take a shower?"

"Can I just have coffee and breakfast instead?"

Chickie regarded Cooper, who was keeping his eyes firmly closed. "Looks like you're gonna have to deal with that on your own. Go set the coffee machine going. I'll come make breakfast after a shower."

She moved slowly towards the bathroom and Ben carefully pushed himself upright, made sure he could maintain equilibrium before heading for the kitchen. Found the coffee beans after an extensive search, ground them successfully. Poured water into the correct place and let the coffee machine do its work.

The kitchen door banged carelessly, announcing Tristan's return. He dropped his skateboard and backpack onto a breakfast bar stool.

"Morning, Ben," he said cheerfully.

Ben managed to mumble something that resembled a greeting.

"Is Coop still here?"

"Yeah, he went back to sleep. Your mom's gone to take a shower."

"She hungover?"

"Not as bad as me."

Tristan grinned, crossed to the refrigerator. Pulled out peanut butter, grabbed a banana and two slices of bread from the counter. Made himself a sandwich.

"You want one?" he asked Ben.

"No, I'm good." Ben grimaced at the offering; peanut butter was high on his most-hated food list. But he had to make sure Cooper didn't find that out or he would suffer for it.

"You guys goin' to work?"

"Not for a while. You looking for a ride to school?"

"Wouldn't say no. Coop got his car here?"

"No, your mom drove us last night."

"Damn. Love that car, man."

Sherman grinned. "So does Cooper."

"He's let me try driving it a coupla times. Like, out in the desert on the quiet roads. Coop's a good guy."

"Yeah, I know. He cares a lot about you."

Tristan nodded quietly. "When I was a little kid, he'd always take me wherever I wanted. Even the beach. He never liked it much but he'd take me if I asked."

"I imagine he's more of a city guy than a beach dude."

"He didn't like all the women checking him out," Tristan grinned.

Ben smiled, studied the coffee machine as if confirming its effectiveness. Didn't want to say anything in response.

"It's cool, man, I know," Tristan laughed. "Coop told me years ago."

"Boot, you figured out how to work the coffee machine yet?" Cooper's sleep-heavy voice yelled from the living room.

"Yeah, it's just brewed," Sherman shouted back.

"Grab me a cup, will ya?"

"I got it," Tristan called.

He moved around Sherman, poured another cup of coffee and stuck his sandwich into his mouth. Ben followed the kid back through to the living room. Cooper was still under the blankets, lying on his side in an outward display of comfort.

He accepted the large mug Tristan handed to him, grinning as the kid immediately flopped down beside him on the couch, stretching his long body across the free space. Cooper threw a paternal arm around the kid's shoulders, ruffled his hair.

"You forgot about school?"

"Got twenty minutes before the bus." Tristan tore a huge bite from his sandwich and offered the remainder to Cooper.

"Get that thing away from me."

Tristan grinned and shoved the rest into his mouth. "Can I have twenty bucks, Coop?"

"Hell no."

"C'mon, man."

"You got a damn mother, go beg her for money."

"I can't ask Mom for money."

"But you can ask me, right? What, you started smoking weed or somethin'?"

Tristan laughed. "Nah, man, I promised I'd tell you if I was gonna try that shit."

"What'd you want it for then?"

Tristan grimaced awkwardly. "I kinda got this girl, y'know, and I wanna get her somethin'…"

Ben struggled to keep his face straight, amused not only by the kid's self-consciousness but also by Cooper's expression, which said he could not refuse the boy. Cooper gave an exaggerated sigh.

"Find my wallet. It's in the kitchen somewhere. Take whatever's in there."

Tristan's eyes illuminated and his smile nearly split his face. "You rule, Coop."

"Get the hell to school before I change my mind."

Tristan sprang up and sprinted for the kitchen. Minutes later, they heard him yelling farewell as he charged out the door.

"Soft touch," Ben grinned.

"Don't think you're gettin' any cash outta me, Boot."

"Did you give Tris money?" Chickie asked, returning with hair still wet from the shower.

"Nope," Cooper said calmly. "Where the hell's breakfast?"

"You want pancakes?"

"If you manage not to cremate them, yeah."

Chickie flipped him the finger and headed for the kitchen. Cooper still showed no sign of moving and after a few minutes of quiet coffee-sipping, Sherman realised the big man wouldn't get up while anyone was watching.

"I'm gonna help Chickie," he announced, getting to his feet.

Cooper didn't say anything but he met Sherman's eyes, gave him a nod that said more than words ever would. It said he realised Ben understood.

"I'll put more coffee on," Ben said, keeping his tone casual. "You want some more?"

"Sure."

He took Cooper's cup and wandered back through to the kitchen. Set the coffee machine going again and poured himself a glass of juice, watched Chickie attempted to flip a pancake. In her hungover state, it wasn't going well.

"You hungry?" she asked.

"Starving, but take your time."

"I'm not the world's greatest cook," she admitted.

"You know I'll eat anything."

She smiled, poured more batter into the skillet. "It was good hanging out with you guys last night."

"Yeah, definitely."

Chickie was quiet for a moment, concentrating on the task. "Cooper thinks I'm a shit cop," she said suddenly.

Ben paused with his juice glass halfway to his mouth, surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

"He cares about you, Chick; he just wants you to be safe."

"Do you think I'm shit?"

Sherman wasn't sure of the best reply to give. His natural inclination was to trust Cooper's instincts but Chickie was his friend and he could see yesterday's shooting had shaken her self-belief badly.

"No, I don't," he said finally.

"You're not pissed I put you in the line of fire?"

"Not at all."

Chickie gave a weak smile. "Thanks, Ben."

Ben shrugged. "We're all in it together, Chick. I'm not your partner but I'll always look out for you if you need me."

She sent him one of those smiles that somehow managed to convey everything she was thinking. "Just make sure you look out for Cooper as well."

"I will if he lets me."

"You know his favourite saying is 'don't be a pussy', right? He's never gonna admit he needs your help; he doesn't think that's what real men do."

"So what am I supposed to do?"

"Just stick by him. That's what means the most when life gets rough."

"Sounds like the voice of experience."

Another enigmatic smile. "Guess it is." She set another pancake on the stack. "You want syrup?"

"Yeah, please."

As Ben took his plate, he realised Cooper had been standing quietly in the doorway, unobtrusively listening to the conversation. Chickie still hadn't noticed as she turned away to search for the syrup.

The partners met each other's gazes. And it was immediately clear that they both recognised what the other was thinking.

They may both have wanted to protect Chickie, but for John Cooper and Ben Sherman, keeping each other alive was the most important thing of all. Because, when the dark threatened to close in on them, that's what partners did.

They looked out for each other.

END


End file.
